Amish Romance BOXED SET: Amish Days: Hope's Story Read online

  “There you are,” Mary interrupted, entering the shaded area.

  Hope jerked with surprise.

  “Don’t be angry at my intrusion.” Mary sat next to Hope and curled her short legs under herself. Her gaze was penetrating. “What’s wrong?”

  Hope put on a smile. “Nothing. It’s too hot in the house. Even the porch is wilty.”

  Mary rested her fingers on Hope’s arm, and at her tender touch, Hope’s throat filled with tears. She shook her head and blinked away the moisture in her eyes.

  “It’s Abram, isn’t it?” Mary whispered.

  Hope nodded. She couldn’t blink fast enough to stop the tears now, and they puddled on her cheeks. “He’s gone,” she said.

  Mary sighed. “Stories are circulating.”

  Hope clutched Mary’s sleeve. “What are people saying?”

  “That he didn’t get enough of rumspringa. That he’s got an Englisch girl…”

  Hope covered her mouth.

  Mary waved her hand in dismissal. “Just idle talk.” She looked deeply into her sister’s shadowed eyes. “It is idle talk, right?”

  Hope looked down at her lap. “I don’t know.”

  “He’ll be here for Sunday meeting?”

  “I don’t know.” Hope was silent for a moment, and then she sat up a bit straighter. “It’s not my concern, though, is it? We’re not courting. He’s a friend. Nothing more.”

  She stood and shook out the folds of her blue dress. Bits of leaves sprinkled to the earth. “Enough moping. Let’s go cook.”

  Mary scrambled up beside her. “Jah, let’s.”

  ****

  That next Sunday, Hope sat sandwiched between Mary and their younger sister, Ann, on the way to the Burkholder’s house for church. Ann jabbered on and on about the new tricks she was teaching Apple, their new white-and-brown-speckled puppy. Hope tried to pay attention, but her stomach felt as if it held a block of ice.

  Mamm had stayed home, complaining of a headache. She rarely missed church, and things felt odd without her. Aunt Ruth sat with Dat in the front of the buggy—her continual jabbering matching Ann’s.

  Dat pulled into the yard and parked their buggy alongside the Troyers. They weren’t late, but already there was a solid row of buggies in place. Ann jumped out and Hope followed. Her eyes scanned the pockets of people making their way inside.

  Adrenaline flashed through her body. There he was, easily taller than most of the men milling near the door. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked, how at ease and naturally he carried himself. He turned and their eyes met. He smiled with what looked like real pleasure, but Hope became so flustered, she couldn’t return the gesture. All she felt was a muddle of confusion. His smile faded as he studied her.

  A jumble of emotions churned through her heart. How could he leave without a word and then give her such a heartfelt smile as if nothing was amiss? Didn’t he know how she had worried? How she had wondered? A surge of anger unbalanced Hope, and she clasped her hands to her chest. She hadn’t expected anger.

  His gaze unnerved her. She shuddered, but she knew she couldn’t keep standing there like a hitching post all morning. Finally, she walked toward the house, deciding her best course of action would be to play calm and ignore him.

  Mary pulled on her sleeve and scuttled to keep up.

  Just as Hope reached the porch, Abram stepped close and cleared his throat. She paused.

  “Hope, you’re here.” There was a warm familiarity in his husky voice.

  Her anger resurfaced, and she turned to him. “Of course I’m here. I’m not the one who left!”

  She clamped her lips shut. What was she thinking? Did she have to blurt out her thoughts, especially with such biting words? Did she have no control?

  Mary gave a low murmur and hustled Ann ahead of her into the house.

  The pleasure Abram had shown at seeing her only moments before evaporated. “I won’t be away as long this time,” he said, and his voice faltered.

  “So you’re not staying even now?” Hope asked, her tone still harsh.

  “You’re angry?”

  “Why should I be? It doesn’t make any difference to me.” She forced nonchalance, and the effort left her breathless.

  “You’re angry.” He repeated, and this time, it wasn’t a question.

  She stiffened, now wanting nothing more than to escape. Shame pulsed through her. She worked to school her expression—to hide her hurt and anger.

  He didn’t move.

  She took a long breath. “Besides, why should I be angry? We’re just friends.”

  If that were true, why did she feel so awful?

  Abram took a step back and regarded her. She saw the confusion in his eyes, and a cloud of regret settled into her stomach. She blinked rapidly, searching for a way to take back the last five minutes. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  “I have my reasons,” he said. He bent slightly toward her, and Hope’s heart quickened at his closeness.

  “Does anyone know your reasons?” Her voice was quieter now.

  “Not entirely.”

  “Mercy was worried about you.”

  Abram’s brow drew into a frown. “I didn’t intend that.”

  I was worried about you, too, she wanted to say. But, she didn’t. She’d been living in a dream world of fantasy and romance, a world no more real to her than the Englischer’s world.

  Abram shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if deciding whether to tell her something. She struggled to hide the yearning that quickly crowded the anger from her heart. If he saw it, it would embarrass them both.

  He paused, then sighed. He turned away to stride into the house.

  Hope stared after him. She took a jagged breath and slowly followed, moving to the unmarried women’s section of the meeting room. She perched on one of the wooden benches like a stone and stretched out her throbbing ankle, ignoring the pain.

  A heavy tightness squeezed her chest. What had she done? Had her hard words killed any hope of something more with Abram?

  Now she would likely live long and lonely and steeped in regret. A muscle quivered in her jaw. Would she eventually have to watch him court someone else? Marry someone else? Would she have to pretend to be happy for them?

  Every fiber in her body was acutely aware of him across the room. She tried to swallow past the ball of wool in her throat, tried to ignore the tears threatening to spill. She squirmed, forcing his image from her eyes, her mind, and her heart. She had to get out of there. She had to get out of there fast.

  But how? She could hardly run out of worship.

  Mary elbowed her, inched close, and whispered, “What is wrong with you? And why were you so mean to Abram?”

  Hope tried again to swallow. She was acting the fool.

  Enough.

  So Abram probably disliked her now. Maybe more than disliked her. He likely thought she was mean and awful. But how would that change her life? He didn’t figure into her days.

  Not even a little.

  She sucked air.

  But he did. He did. Thoughts of him were with her every minute of every day. A tear slid down her cheek, and she swiped at it. She grasped a worn copy of the Ausbund close to her chest like a lifeline. The frayed cover and tattered pages filled with songs pressed against her hands. Singing was her favorite part of church. She willed herself to think on that.

  To think on anything but Abram.

  Gott, I’m here to worship you. May I please you with my prayers and with my voice. May I think on you, not on others. Gott, please help me.

  She closed her eyes. God would help her. She took a slow, even breath. Everything would be all right. God was in control.

  Four

  Abram climbed into Robby’s low sports car after a long day at the factory. He sank into the seat and buckled himself in.

  “How was your weekend?” Robby asked, shifting the car into gear.

  “Fine.”

&
nbsp; “Did you see that girl?”

  Abram nodded.

  “How’d it go?”

  “It didn’t.” Abram closed his lips and attempted to put the thought of Hope from his mind. His meeting with her had ungrounded him. He’d foolishly thought she would be happy to see him.

  How wrong he’d been.

  His plan was tumbling. He might as well return home to Hollybrook and stay, but he’d promised Robby’s father another two weeks of work.

  And he wouldn’t go back on his word.

  When Abram had told his own father he’d be gone two more weeks, his dat had reacted with anger. But his mamm had been relieved. Happy even.

  Which had nothing to do with the two more weeks.

  His mamm had been overcome with relief upon learning that his leaving had nothing to do with rumspringa. He could have told her he’d be gone two more years, and she would have smiled.

  The day before, after the church meeting was finished, Abram had tried to talk again with Hope. When the meal was served, he’d looked all over and finally spotted her sitting in the middle of her family. She was so tightly surrounded that he didn’t consider breaking through.

  Besides, she’d made it clear; she wanted nothing to do with him.

  He could almost hear the cracking foundation of his dream, almost hear the beams slamming to the ground.

  And here he was, stuck in the Englischer’s world for two more weeks.

  Robby pulled into the long drive approaching his home. Abram marveled again at its grandeur. He’d been lucky to land there during his rumspringa. He knew that. Plus he knew that Robby’s father’s connection with his community’s crops had paved the way. And Abram was grateful. Truly, he was. He had been able to accumulate a good amount of money from his work there. All part of his plan.

  His broken, crushed plan.

  “We’re here,” Robby announced, yanking up the parking brake.

  “Think I’ll hang out in the cottage if you don’t mind,” Abram said.

  “Hey, suit yourself.”

  Abram climbed out of the car and headed through the house and out back to his cottage. He went inside, grateful the day was nearly over. Thirteen days left and counting.

  A soft knock sounded, and he turned to face his half-open door.

  Rene entered with an inviting smile on her face. “Hey, Amish boy. Want to go swimming?”

  Abram rubbed the back of his neck. “No, thanks.”

  Rene stepped forward, her long, thin legs barefoot. “You’re not going to make me swim alone, are you?” She tossed her thick hair over her shoulder, and her blue eyes gleamed.

  “I don’t swim.”

  “I know, but you can get in and splash around with me.” She reached out and touched his arm. He flinched, but she continued resting her fingers on his skin. “Ah, don’t tell me you’re still shy. We know each other well now.”

  Abram pulled his arm back. “We don’t know each other at all.”

  “Come on, Abram. At least come outside with me and visit.” She pursed her pink lips into an adorable pout.

  “No, thanks,” he repeated, walking to the door. He waited until she gave a grunt and pranced off.

  Abram made sure the door was completely shut before he sat on the edge of his bed. There was no denying that Rene was cute. And fun-loving.

  And available.

  He clenched his teeth until they hurt. Why had Hope been so unfeeling? He thought she liked him. Didn’t she always show up at Feed & Supply at the perfect time every Tuesday? That couldn’t be a coincidence. Or could it?

  He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  Something inside him stiffened. No, that wasn’t true. He was sure of something. He was sure that he wasn’t a quitter. Maybe his plan had taken a slight detour.

  But it was still his plan, and he intended to work it.

  Five

  “He’s here!” Mary grabbed Hope’s arms and squeezed. “He’s here!” She flew to their bedroom window and leaned out.

  Hope followed and grabbed her sister’s sleeve. “Are you crazy? If he sees you gawking like that, he’ll run for the hills. And what happened here? Did you take the screen out of the window?”

  “I had to. Otherwise, I couldn’t get a good look. Don’t worry, I’ll put it back.” Mary leaned a bit further, and Hope held her tight for fear she’d tumble right out.

  “He’s good-looking! Hope, see for yourself.”

  Hope gazed around Mary’s shoulders to the scene below and had to agree. The Lambright’s nephew was definitely handsome. He was tall, too, maybe taller than Abram.

  Hope gulped. Why bring Abram into it?

  Mary smoothed her dress and tucked a stray curl under her kapp. Hope watched her primp, fearing she was wandering close to pride. But then, hadn’t pride been the reason for her ugly behavior with Abram the other day? She’d been hurt, and she’d opened her big mouth and pretended she didn’t care. She was quite sure that counted as pride.

  “Let’s go down,” she suggested, burying her shame to pray about it later.

  Mary rushed ahead.

  Mamm and Dat were welcoming Josiah, and Ruth was already serving tall glasses of lemonade. Ann was herding the puppy, Apple, out the door.

  Daniel, Mercy, and Martha Lambright came in, scooting around Apple as she yipped and jumped.

  “Ach, cute puppy!” cried Mercy.

  “Want to help me with her?” asked Ann. The two girls disappeared outside.

  “We’re about ready to dish up!” Mamm called after them. Her cheeks blazed a ruddy red from bending over the stove in the smothering heat. But then, Mamm’s cheeks were often flushed from hard work. And it was always more pronounced when people came over—being a hostess wasn’t her favorite activity.

  If it weren’t for Ruth’s presence, Hope knew they’d rarely, if ever, have guests.

  “Where’s Isaac?” Dat asked.

  “He sends his regrets,” Martha answered. “With Abram gone, he needs every minute.”

  “I told you I would stay and help,” Josiah protested.

  Martha waved her hand and chuckled. “Nonsense. You need to meet the community.”

  At Martha’s comment, Mary poked Hope. Hope ignored her and pulled out a bench. “Shall we sit?” she asked.

  After calling in the girls, Aunt Ruth organized everyone at the table laden with food. Ann and Mercy jabbered happily, squished together on the porch bench that had been pulled in for the occasion. Hope busied herself passing the heavy bowls of food. When she handed the mashed potatoes to her dat, she looked up to see Josiah staring at her.

  She lowered her gaze to the table, hoping Mary hadn’t noticed. But Mary must have noticed, for Hope heard her suck in her breath.

  Mary quickly regained her composure, and a moment later, asked sweetly, “Josiah, how long will you be staying with the Lambrights?”

  Josiah looked away from Hope to focus on Mary. “That’s uncertain right now. It could be quite a while.”

  Martha Lambright patted his hand with her chubby fingers. “We hope it’s a good long while.”

  Daniel nodded and grinned. “We can use the help.”

  Josiah looked again at Hope. “Mercy was bragging on you. She said you make the best pies.”

  Hope felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and she sensed Mary stiffen beside her. She didn’t relish being the center of attention under any circumstances, but now seemed particularly awkward.

  “Not really,” she stammered. “Uh, Mary makes delicious pies.”

  Mercy’s fork clattered on her plate. “Jah, you do, Hope. You know your pies are the best.”

  Mary’s posture wilted. “Jah, Hope. We all know how wunderbaar your pies are.”

  Hope prayed no one else could hear the edge of hurt and sarcasm in Mary’s voice.

  Dat coughed and picked up the platter of pork chops. “Daniel, you better feed those bones of yours. Harvest is coming. You’ll need all your strength.”

  Daniel grinn
ed and grabbed the platter. “Jah, thank you.”

  For the rest of the meal, Hope kept her attention on her food, only looking up if spoken to. Gratefully, that didn’t happen but once more when Ann asked her to save some table scraps for Apple.

  Six

  Hope stood outside the house, waiting for the rest of the family to emerge. The community wagon was coming by to take them to worship at the Miller’s that Sunday, which saved Dat from harnessing Chocolate. The heat had lessened in the last couple days, and that morning a refreshing breeze rustled the tassels of corn. Dat warned that a storm was coming, but all looked peaceful.

  The screen door squawked and Mary trudged down the steps to stand on the grass. She positioned herself a good distance away and set her face into what was becoming her customary scowl.

  She was still upset—like it was Hope’s fault Josiah paid her more attention at dinner. Hope hadn’t asked for it. She hadn’t even wanted it.

  Although, Josiah did seem like a fine person. His handsome looks didn’t hurt, either. If she could just get Abram out of her head.

  But it didn’t matter anyway, because for Mary’s sake, Hope wouldn’t go near Josiah.

  She gazed at the overcast skies and watched two blue jays twist and turn through the air. She had heard Abram was back home again, so no doubt he would be at worship. Would he acknowledge her? How should she act? Should she make sure to stand where he would pass?

  “Plotting your conquest?” Mary asked.

  Hope flinched. “What?”

  “Now that Abram’s home, you can snatch both him and Josiah.” Mary’s eyes misted, and she turned away.

  “When are you going to forgive me?” asked Hope. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m seventeen.” Mary’s voice was flat.

  “I know how old you are.”

  “I don’t have anyone.”

  Hope gave a heavy sigh. “Well, neither do I.”

  Now, she didn’t even have Mary. She missed her sister—missed their closeness and their whispered confidences in the middle of the night. She’d done everything she could to bring Mary near again. She’d even done a large portion of her chores over the last week, but nothing swayed Mary’s mood.